by R. L. Stine
She didn’t know the town or the roads. But she took a guess that the road had to lead to where she wanted to go. As the road curved up through the thick woods, Corky wondered if she’d made the right choice.
I can’t really do this—can I? she asked herself.
She began to feel more doubts. She lightened her foot on the gas pedal.
I can’t do this. It seemed like a good plan—the only plan. But I can’t carry it out.
Kimmy’s face forced her forward.
The big steering wheel bounced under her hands as Corky pressed all the way down on the gas. The bus rumbled and roared, tires spinning on the slick, icy surface as it climbed higher through the glistening woods.
Her features set, her eyes staring straight ahead, Corky pictured Kimmy’s eyes peering up so blankly, so sadly at her from under the frozen lake. She saw Kimmy’s black hair billowing in the water.
And she pictured Kimmy’s mouth, the lips opening slowly, forming the words, “Keep going.”
“Keep going.”
The bloated purple lips. The eyes pleading.
“Keep going.”
Corky imagined Kimmy’s last request. Poor, drowned Kimmy. Kimmy under the ice in her watery grave. Drowned by the evil. Drowned by the evil on board this bus.
Kimmy’s face, so clear in Corky’s mind, urged Corky forward.
Stayed with her. Rode with her.
Kimmy is here with me, Corky thought. Sitting beside me, guiding me. Telling me that what I am about to do is right. Telling me that I have no choice.
Corky realized that she was doing the only thing she could. These weren’t really her friends. They were the evil. Corky knew that she had to drown the evil—push it out of her friends’ bodies. It was their only chance of survival. If she didn’t drown the evil, her friends would die for sure.
Corky could only hope that—once the evil had left them—her friends would survive. Just as she had when she forced the evil from her own body.
Gripping the wheel tightly in both hands, Corky leaned over it, staring out the windshield, watching the blur of trees bounce past.
She slowed as the cliff edge came into view.
A low metal railing had been placed along the side of the road. It was more of a warning than a fence, Corky thought. A warning that the ground ended sharply in a steep drop, a steep drop all the way down to the frozen lake.
The low divider wouldn’t stop a car from plunging over the side.
Or a bus.
She grabbed the door control. The bus bounced near the low metal railing. Then back to the center of the road.
Peering down, Corky saw the lake far below. It gleamed under the late-morning sun like a vast shiny mirror.
“Corky? Corky, what are you doing?”
Corky heard a voice call out behind her. Someone had recognized her. Too late. Nothing could stop her now. She had to go through with her plan. It was the only chance she had of saving her friends.
“Ohhhh.” A frightened moan escaped her throat.
Am I doing this?
Am I?
Kimmy’s dead face appealed to her one last time: “Keep going.”
Corky eased her foot down on the brake. Slowed the bus.
Slower. Slower.
She opened the bus door.
Slower. Slower.
Can I do it? Can I do it now?
Yes!
She turned the wheel hard toward the cliff edge. Then, holding the wheel with one hand, Corky pushed herself up from the seat, ran to the open doorway—and jumped.
She hit the pavement hard, landing on her right shoulder. Then she rolled into the metal railing. It clanged loudly, and held her.
Ignoring the pain that shot out from her shoulder, Corky pulled herself to a sitting position—in time to see the yellow bus plunge through the divider and over the cliff.
Raising her hands to her face, she watched it tilt straight down and then plummet out of view, its tires spinning in air.
She heard the terrified squeals and shrieks of the players and three cheerleaders. The cries ended in a loud crack and then splash that brought Corky to her feet.
Peering over the side of the cliff, Corky saw the rear of the bus sticking straight up, sinking rapidly into a wide blue pool of water.
Silvery sheets of ice had been split away by the impact. The ice sheets bobbed and tilted over the water like fallen walls of a house. The bus dropped between them.
In the distance Corky saw several men in parkas out on the ice. Ice fishermen. They dropped their poles and shouted. Running over the ice toward the sinking bus.
Too late.
A large air bubble rose up in the blue water as the back of the bus sank below the surface.
The screams and shrieks vanished. Cut off, like someone clicking off a radio.
The only sounds now were the rough scraping of the broken ice sheets as they splashed against one another and the distressed cries of the ice fishermen.
Sobbing loudly, both hands still pressed against her cheeks, Corky stared down into the blue hole in the ice. She watched as the water started to bubble and boil. Watched as the thick steam poured up from the hole.
Corky knew that this was the evil drowning. Being forced from her friends’ bodies.
Corky watched as the steam continued to billow up from the ice.
No one came up.
No one swam to the surface.
Corky drowned the evil.
But had she drowned all her friends too?
Chapter 28
TEAM SPIRIT
The evil had to be drowned, Corky knew. Drowning was the only way to defeat it.
But as she stared down over the cliff edge, Corky felt no relief. She felt only sorrow and fear.
I’ve drowned everyone, she realized with a shock. I’ve killed all my friends.
Staggering away from the guardrail, she made her way unsteadily down the hill to the highway. The road, the trees, all blurred before her. As she stepped onto the highway, it appeared to buckle and bend beneath her feet.
The ground tilted hard to the right, then swayed to the left. Dizzy, afraid she’d fall, Corky grabbed hold of a telephone pole.
Wrapping one arm around the pole, she shut her eyes. Even with her eyes shut, the world continued to spin.
What is happening to me? she wondered.
Then another frightening question forced itself into her mind. What will happen to me? What will happen when they find out I drowned all my friends?
She shook her head, forcing the question away. Then she pushed herself from the pole.
Go to the arena, she instructed herself. Tell them what has happened. Tell Ms. Closter. Tell everyone.
The team is dead. The cheerleaders are dead.
I sent them over the cliff. I drowned them all. Because I had to drown the evil.
“Got to tell,” Corky murmured, stumbling along the shoulder. She slipped on a patch of ice. “Got to tell. Got to tell everything.”
Dragging herself along the highway, murmuring to herself, Corky ignored the swaying, tilting ground, ignored the bright blur of the woods. Dazed, she walked blindly toward the arena.
Cars and trucks whirred by. Part of the blur of color that danced before her eyes.
After she had walked half an hour, a station wagon slowed to a stop. A boy leaned out the passenger window and called to her, “Going to the game? Want a ride?”
When Corky didn’t reply, the station wagon sped off.
“Got to explain,” she repeated over and over as she continued her slow, unsteady journey. “Got to tell. Got to tell everything.”
The sun beamed down, but didn’t warm her. Shivering, dazed, muttering to herself, she lost all track of time. When the arena came into view, Corky nearly walked past it.
The excited shouts of people making their way into the entrances snapped Corky out of her haze. She followed the lines into the brightly lit arena.
“Got to tell. Got to tell.”
>
“Ticket, miss?” A hand thrust itself in her face.
“Huh?” She stared at a tall man in a red blazer.
“Ticket. I need to see your ticket,” he said patiently.
“Oh. I’m a cheerleader,” Corky told him, struggling to see past him down the long aisle to the basketball floor.
“You’re a cheerleader? Where’s your uniform?” the man asked, frowning.
“Back at the motel,” Corky answered absently.
“Miss, I can’t let you in unless—”
“But I’ve got to tell! Got to tell!” she cried. And plunged past him, past his outstretched hand, into the arena, her shoes clomping on the concrete steps.
Faces. Faces all around her. People in the stands.
And down on the floor she saw a team warming up. Their uniforms white.
Only one team warming up, taking practice shots. Only one team—and Corky knew why.
“Ms. Closter!” she called, her voice shrill and strange to herself. “Ms. Closter! It’s me!”
She saw the coach across the floor, her arms crossed over the front of her white T-shirt, talking calmly to a referee.
“Ms. Closter! Please!”
Ms. Closter glanced up at the sound of Gorky’s frantic cry.
Corky breathlessly ran across the middle of the basketball court, ignoring the startled cries of the players.
“Corky—everyone is late!” Ms. Closter said, frowning. “Do you know where the bus is?”
“In the lake,” Corky told her. Everything spun around her. The rows of seats, the two backboards, the empty team benches. She thought she saw Debra, but it was so hard to tell. Everything was spinning. Spinning so rapidly.
“The game has to be canceled!” she shrieked, tearing at her hair with both hands, trying to make it all stop spinning.
“Huh?” Ms. Closter’s eyes narrowed.
“They’re all dead!” Corky screamed. “All dead!”
But her horrifying words were drowned out by a loud cheer that roared down from the stands.
A band started playing. The cheering rose over the blaring brass.
“I can’t hear you!” Ms. Closter cried, cupping both ears and leaning close to Corky. “What did you say?”
“I said they’re all dead!” Corky choked out.
Ms. Closter shook her head. “Sorry. It’s so noisy—”
Corky took a deep breath. She opened her mouth to shout again.
The roar of the crowd made her turn her head.
She saw a team make its way onto the floor.
Team? What team? she wondered, struggling to focus.
The band played enthusiastically as the players moved under the bright lights.
Corky gasped as she recognized them. Alex. And Jay. Gary. The other Shadyside players.
Too stunned to cry out, she watched Ivy, Heather, and Lauren follow the team onto the floor, jumping and clapping.
“No! No!” Corky shouted out loud.
The band music sputtered out abruptly. And the cheers of the crowd turned to horrified, sickened groans.
Their faces! Corky saw. The players’ faces. They were wet, and puffy, and bloated. Clumps of green lake moss clung to their hair. Wet mud ran down their cheeks and stained their uniforms.
Corky gaped in openmouthed shock at their frightening, dead faces. At their vacant eyes, empty, lifeless eyes.
The players tried to pick up basketballs to begin their warm-ups. But the balls fell heavily from their limp, water-bloated hands.
“No! No! No!” Corky repeated her horrified chant as the three cheerleaders lined up and started a cheer. Their uniforms were soaked and stained. Clumps of mud and dead leaves fell from their hair as they jumped.
Brackish brown water poured out of their open mouths and dribbled down their chins. They moved their swollen lips silently, spewing a steady stream of murky water.
More groans rose up from the crowd. Children were crying. Terrified screams echoed off the high walls.
“They’re dead! They’re dead!” Corky shouted.
And as she shouted, Alex turned to her. His dead eyes glowed at her from across the floor. He had a deep purple gash down the side of his face, but no blood spilled from it. Alex lurched clumsily to Jay and pointed a swollen finger at Corky.
An eerie grin crossed Jay’s fat, purple lips as he staggered over to Alex. One of his eyes had sunken back in its socket. The other squinted at Corky.
“They’re dead! They’re all dead!” Corky, dazed and dizzy, continued to chant.
She stopped her cries, and her breath caught in her throat when she realized they were all staring at her now. The dead players and the three dead cheerleaders.
All staring at her with their blank eyes.
And now, all staggering toward her, lurching, stumbling after her, reaching for her with their swollen purple hands, coming for her, coming for their revenge.
Chapter 29
“THE GANG’S ALL HERE”
As a wave of terror swept over her, Corky stumbled back against the bench.
Alex, Jay, and the others staggered toward her. Jay had a broken arm, Corky saw. It hung loosely at his side. A pale white bone poked out through the skin at his elbow.
Her streaked hair wet and matted, Ivy grinned at Corky. All her teeth had been knocked out. Dark bloodstains caked her chin.
Gary’s head twitched violently, bobbing from side to side on his broken neck as he moved with the others. A reeling, lurching line closed in on Corky.
She stared in horror from face to face. They’re all dead, she realized. They’re the walking dead!
Corky wanted to back away. But the bench blocked her way.
She spun around—her heart banging, her temples throbbing, so dizzy and dazed—and saw people frantically jamming the aisles, desperate to flee the arena.
Frightened shrieks and cries rang out through the vast building. And over the moans and shouts she heard a shrill voice calling her name. “Corky! Corky!”
Corky gasped when she saw Debra, her blond hair tangled about her head, her blue eyes wild, charging across the floor to her. “Oh, no, Debra!” Corky cried out loud. “They got you too? They got you too?”
And then the bloated bodies blocked out all the light. And hands reached for Corky. The swollen, broken fingers grasped for her throat.
She felt the icy, wet touch of death wrap itself around her.
And a heavy darkness swept her down, down to the floor.
♦ ♦ ♦
When she opened her eyes, she saw only white. She blinked. Once. Twice. But she couldn’t bring anything into focus.
I’m dead, Corky thought.
This is what death looks like. A wall of white surrounded by white.
She felt a dull ache at the back of her head.
How did I die? she wondered, struggling to remember. But her mind seemed as blank as the solid wash of white around her.
Groaning from the pain, she pulled herself up. Realized she was in a bed. In a room.
An open doorway came into focus.
Corky heard voices on the other side of the doorway. She took a deep breath. A strong aroma invaded her nose. Disinfectant? Rubbing alcohol?
The dull pain throbbed. She raised a hand and rubbed the back of her head through her tangled hair.
A young woman with curly red hair appeared in the doorway. Corky stared at her white uniform.
A nurse. I’m not dead, she realized. I’m in a hospital.
“You’re up? That’s great!” the nurse exclaimed, smiling. She had a high, squeaky voice. “Your parents are on their way.”
“My parents?” Corky’s mouth felt dry. It was a struggle to get the words out.
“You’re going to be okay,” the nurse told her, stepping into the room. “You fainted and hit your head. That’s what your coach told us. It knocked you out. But there’s no internal bleeding or anything. You’ll be all right.”
Corky stared at her, letting this informatio
n sink in.
“I’m okay?”
“A pretty bad concussion,” the nurse replied, her eyes studying Corky. “Your coach said you acted dazed when you arrived at the arena. And I guess with all the excitement—”
“But—but my friends?” Corky stammered.
“Your friends are all here in the hospital,” the nurse replied casually. A strange smile formed on her full lips. “It’s been a busy day.”
My friends are all here?
The words sent a frozen chill that shook Corky’s body.
My dead friends are all here in the hospital?
They all followed me here, Corky realized.
The nurse is wrong. Everything isn’t going to be okay.
They’re not going to let me leave alive.
Chapter 30
GRABBED
I have to get out of here as fast as I can, Corky realized.
She waited for the nurse to leave. Then she lowered her feet to the floor and stood up. Ignoring her dizziness and the dull pain at the back of her head, Corky spotted her clothes hanging in an open closet against the wall.
With one eye on the door, she tugged off the pale green hospital gown and climbed into her jeans. As she pulled her sweater over her head, she shivered again.
They’re here. They’re all here, she realized.
Lying in hospital rooms. Waiting to come for me.
The dead players. The dead cheerleaders. All here.
Grabbing her jacket off the hanger, Corky turned and started to the door. I’ll find a back exit. I’ll run out, she told herself. I’ll hide and wait for my parents near the parking lot.
Thinking about her parents gave Corky some hope.
I can do it, she told herself. I can get out of here.
She took a step toward the door—and stopped short as a figure appeared, blocking her way.
“Debra!” Corky cried.
Debra wore her maroon and white cheerleader uniform. Her cold blue eyes studied Corky. “You’re up?” she demanded.
“Let me go!” Corky shrieked. “Debra—please! Let me go!”
Without waiting for a reply, Corky pushed past Debra, shoving her in the ribs and shooting out the doorway. She heard Debra’s cry of surprise behind her. But she didn’t glance back.
